


In The Lord of Silver’s Heart

by Ichigo777



Category: Tintenwelt-Trilogie | Inkheart Trilogy - Cornelia Funke
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Child Abuse, Death, F/M, Gen, Lolicon, Multi, Original Character(s), Other, Slavery, Torture, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 21:46:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ichigo777/pseuds/Ichigo777
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 50-themes challenge starring MY version of the Adderhead from the Inkheart Trilogy and my original character Altáriel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Lord of Silver’s Heart

**Author's Note:**

> My 1st 50 themes challenge. I picked five of the 'alternate' topics to replace the writer's choice ones, but otherwise, I did the table as it was.
> 
> Story contains mentions of sex, underage sex, child abuse, child neglect, lolicon, torture, death, ect, but nothing explicit. Read at your own risk. Two characters are Lord Adderhead and a young Altáriel (my OC). Some blurbs are quite short and other span multiple paragraphs - depends how motivated I was!

1 - Twilight

            He hated twilight more than any other time of day, no matter what day it was. Twilight was when they were the most active and when they wandered around the forest around the castle; he could almost hear them calling, almost feel the chill they brought with them. He hated the feeling of being near them, more than anything else: it was his deepest fear. Twilight used to be spent being occupied either with a late dinner or an important meeting - somewhere where they were no windows that could be opened.

            But Altáriel loved the twilight - it was during twilight that her mother had always told her stories to make her sleep when she was just a little child; in fact all of Altáriel’s memories of her mother happened at twilight. She would sit on a chair on the open balcony of his bedroom and watch the sun set below the trees. When it got colder, she shivered but never got up for a coat or cloak, even when she was freezing. It was as if she were afraid that the twilight would vanish if she left her perch. It’s how he got into the habit of coming over to see her, to bring her one, and how he ended up spending his twilights with his arm wrapped around her small form.

 

2 - Burn

            Her mother had taught Altáriel how to bake before her passing and she had always loved to bake, until her father and her new stepmother had confined her to the kitchen, forcing her to make the daily meals for her entire family and only saving her scraps. She began to hate the kitchen, to burn the food on purpose and to accidentally burn herself in the process. Before long they grew tired of it, before long she no longer had to cook (she still didn’t eat well or sometimes at all) - but she missed baking.

            He had caught her one night, just a few days after she officially moved in with him in the castle, sneaking out of bed a little before two to use the oven in the kitchen when no one was around. He had unintentionally startled her, causing her to drop the cookies she had made and burn her arm pretty badly on the hot tray. He had bandaged her arm himself and, as an apology because for some strange reason he felt guilty, the next afternoon he had baked the replacement cookies, under her instruction. It was the first time he had ever cooked anything in his life, but seeing the smile that danced across her face, he though it might not be too bad to do it again sometime. The cookies didn’t taste too bad either.

 

3 - Silence

            Altáriel didn’t talk much at first. When she arrived at his front door, brought by a guard, she had been beaten and battered almost beyond recognition, she was so unlike the vibrant little girl he had met at that party - and she didn’t utter a sound. Not when the doctors treated her, not when the shrapnel was pulled from her feet, not when a scalpel was taken to her back without the numbing herbs first, not when her multiple wounds were treated with the stinging cleaner and then tightly wrapped, not when the dresser came and spent three hours washing the gunk dye from her hair that her father had used to hide her real color, not for anything. She remained quiet for days, looking at her lap and only her lap in some kind of state of shock. After days and days of being in her company she finally spoke to him and only to him. It was two words that left him a bit shocked, but it had been words. Months later, she’s still quiet around everyone else, even around him at times. But it’s no longer an inconvenience - he can read her silence now.

 

4 - Secrets

            He has many secrets - he’s been alive for over 60 years and rules a country after all. He never shares those secrets, not to anyone. He has a new secret now, a secret that’s hard to keep. His new houseguest is just that, a pretty young guest to everyone else - to him, she’s his little secret lover. Altáriel is his new secret - a secret he doesn’t know for how long he can keep quiet. And, quite frankly, he’s not sure he even wants to keep her a secret for much longer…

 

5 - Blankets

            He gave her a lavish bedroom, unlike she’d ever been in before, with a huge bed piled with fine pillows and embroidered blankets covered in all the pretty things women liked to look at - things she never had at home. He thought she’d be happy there, but Altáriel would have none of it. Night after night she trekked into his room after changing in her own, hoisting herself up on his bed beside him with effort (she was still small, even more so than a normal girl due to her malnutrition, and his bed was high) and curling up against him under the thick blankets he preferred that bore no patterns or designs. At first he wondered if she liked plain things - now he realizes the blankets and pillows mean nothing to her: she comes to be with him.

 

6 - Linger

            After a week with her, he had had the guards purchase two types of shampoo from the local maker - his normal kind and a second with floral scents. He had discovered that having Altáriel’s hair smell like a grown man’s was distracting to him: girls should smell like roses not wood. He had presented the bottle to her himself, telling her it was just for her (the sure-fire way to get her to use it). From then on, she smelled like the sweetest of roses and her scent would linger in the rooms long after she left, leaving him to inhale her sweet scent before following her trail.

 

7 - Clouds

            The left hall had a pillow pit instead of a throne; in his younger days there had been two or three women on each arm when he had relaxed there, doing court while smooching the hot beauties on him. Nowadays he rarely used it at all - the thrones looked better and felt better on his older back - there were no longer fawning girls to drape around his arms either. Sometimes, in the early morning, he’d find Altáriel there, laying on the pile with a huge smile on her face. After seeing her there a few times, he asked her why and she told him the pillows were so soft they were like clouds. She had always wondered what clouds felt like, but could never touch one. Feeling the pillows, she thought they felt like what clouds might feel like. The next morning he gives the wacky inventor of the court a new job - find a way to get up high enough to touch clouds…if only just to see her smile.

 

8 - Liar

            Altáriel hates being babied. She’s only 8, but she acts like she’s older due to her early hard years and she hates it when he treats her like a little kid. He starts talking around in circles to avoid telling her the information he thinks she’s too young to hear. She’ll just sit there, arms crossed and call him a liar with a pout, then ignore everything he says. His resolve usually breaks very quickly and within minutes he’s kissing her in apology and telling it to her straight, the way he should have done in the first place, or so she thinks.

 

9 - Remember

            She cries her heart out when he returns to her mother’s pendant that her father had sold long ago. Holding it so tightly the chain cuts into her hands, Altáriel just sobs and sobs against him and he wonders If it was the right thing to do, to make her remember this. But then she looks up at him, the tears making her eyes shimmer like starlight and she thanks him from the bottom of her heart and he knows he’ll spend the rest of his days trying to make her smile like that each and every day - he’ll always remember the first one.

 

10 - Pure

            She’s an innocent little thing with only good intentions - seemingly pure and uncorrupted when it comes to the loving relationship between a male and a female at least. She’s eager to learn, but he’s very reluctant to teach her anything more than kisses for now. Altáriel is the only thing that could ever come close to being defined as pure in his life … and he likes to have that tiny speck of purity in his life.

 

11 - Hand

            He tries his best not to think of their age difference unless he absolutely has to. He views her as his, no matter how old she is or how short she may be. He’s well used to having young women as lovers, well used to having their weight mean nothing as they sit on his lap. It’s when Altáriel holds his hand that the size difference becomes obvious and undeniable, no matter how hard he tries. Her hands are tiny, pale, and scarred from years of being neglected and forced to cook for her family. His are larger, wrinkled by the sun and by age, but relatively unmarred in comparison. It’s a luxury she wasn’t afforded. It reminds him often of what she’s suffered though and strengthens his resolve to never do it to her himself.

 

12 - Distance

            He notices the space in-between them has all but vanished one day. When Altáriel first arrived, she’d sit on the same loveseat as him but at the opposite end, as far away as she could - years of neglect and abuse from her family had taught her to shy away from people. She would only sit with him on the other end - with anyone else she would refuse and just stand. As time passed, she grew more comfortable being next to him. Now when she sits beside him, there is no distance between them at all - she’s right up against him. Some nights she pushes further and half lays herself over his lap and he can‘t bring himself to shove her away. It shows him how much distance has been covered, both figuratively and not.

 

13 - February

            Love is something he usually fails at - catching women is no problem, keeping them is the hard part. And this stupid month of February is all about love. He has no idea what to buy for Altáriel or if he should buy her anything at all. A dress, cookies? Should he write a poem? Eventually, he takes an afternoon off and wanders through the shops, hoping for an inspiration. In a small corner second-hand store, a glint of gold catches his eye and he’s amazed to see it’s a pair of earrings that are a perfect match for the locket he returned to her not too long ago. With a smirk that could outclass any other, he buys them. Her expression upon receiving them two nights later is priceless - and so is his following reaction to her very intimate gift.

 

14 - Fill

            He sort-of hates himself for giving in to her so easily. A quick pout, some batted eyelashes, a peak of creamy legs under a very sexy piece of lingerie, and a pleading tone to Altáriel’s voice is apparently all it takes for him to toss what remains of his morals straight out the window and forget it ever was an issue for the moment, at least. Despite his protests, he’s still doing it, pressing her body to his, filling her up with him. And he hates himself for it and every second he wants to will himself to stop, but then he catches a glimpse of her face - a bright smile for him and only him and he can’t tell her no. She’s found his one and only weakness and he can’t help but do what she wants now - even if it’s not good for her. All her can do is smile, enjoy it, and fill her up.

 

15 - Hold

            They all used to run from him after it was finished. They ran off the second their legs could carry them away from him - each and every one of them. Not Altáriel though - she grips onto him as if she’s afraid he’ll leave. She finds herself a niche, usually under one arm, and snuggles herself into him, holding on so tight it’s almost painful at times. He never leaves her after, never has, never will - but still she holds him tight again and again. He doesn’t really mind too much; it’s nice to have a woman stay, even if his new woman is anything but one yet.

 

16 - Fire

            His temper is like fire, Altáriel always tells him; once it’s ignited, it blazes and then burns out of control so quickly. She’s terrified of how he yells at the idiots who come to court, amazed at times as to how something so simple can set him off so quickly. He always tells her she’s water to his fire, that one look at her face is all it takes to calm him down when he’s in a rage. The thought makes her face burn. He always tells her he’ll never hurt her, but there’s no need as she’s never doubted him to begin with.

 

17 - Tomorrow

            She hates the word tomorrow and the idea of doing anything then - Altáriel’s all for today. After losing her mother so early on, she regrets the times she said the word to her and wishes for nothing more than to have that time back. Now she’s with him and she’s determined not to make the same mistakes again by saying ‘tomorrow‘. He’s a firm believer in doing some thing tomorrow - especially when it comes to the things she normally wants to do. But then she gets upset and the tears start and he always gives in. Tomorrow only means more of the same.

 

18 - Closer

            She’s closer than he is; closer to being perfect in every way, shape, and form. Some nights he wonders how she came to be his, how fate’s wheels turned and landed the almost perfect her with the imperfect him. Whether it was intended or a kink in the design, he’s grateful for it. After only a few months with her, he can’t imagine his life ever being anything more perfect without Altáriel there.

 

19 - Heed

            He’s often surprised that she’s more wild than him, a free spirit. In his younger days he was more reckless, but age has wizened him. Most of his previous lovers were careful little things, but not Altáriel. She hears and heeds no warnings unless serious consequences are faced; she tiptoes over breaking bridges and skips over slippery rocks paying no heed at all to the warning signs. He finds himself often running to the other side, prepared to catch her should she fall. He finds himself wandering in thought one day and wonders if he put his watchful mother through the same things when he was young…

 

20 - Buttercups

            She loves flowers more than any other thing (besides him, of course). Flowers to make necklaces and crowns, flowers to gather in bouquets and place in crystal vases, flowers to sketch on smooth white paper of the finest quality, flowers to make perfume from along with soap and other lovely lady things, and flowers to gather nectar from to make sweets for sharing - just some of Altáriel’s uses for flowers. He always has to take her out to see the flowers since none grow within the castle walls. Once there used to be a courtyard filled with buttercups, now it’s long dead - some days he wishes he had taken better care of it. He’s considered hiring a secret gardener.

 

21 - Underneath

            He’s afraid to lay with her at times, her tiny body underneath his. He’s fearful of crushing her, given her small size. He’s reluctant to ever do it, despite her pleas. Altáriel likes the feeling of comfort that comes from being surrounded by him - if it were possible she’d wish for him to surround her on all sides at all times, to be enveloped in him and only him. The times when she’s underneath him, preferably with no clothes between them, is her favorite time. It is the one time she is sure she is safe from everything, the one time she can truly and utterly relax. At night sometime she often sneaks and worms her way underneath him. And, despite his protests, he never pushes her away.

 

22 - Hide

            He never understood why she always hides when he had female guests over. They would walk into the castle and Altáriel would flee from her normal place at his side and vanish. He would send guards to look for her, but they could never find her or if they did, she would run and hide again until they couldn‘t. He would try during breaks, but he never succeeded in bringing her back either. Only after the women would leave would she return to his side, quiet and downcast usually. After days and days of being with her, he finally realizes why she leaves - fear. Fear that he’ll take another bride and she’ll no longer be needed. She is too young for marriage, to young to be of real use to him, she feels. He’s stopped having the majority of unmarried female guests over since then. And she’s stopped hiding.

 

23 - Flash

            Thunder booms and lightning flashes across the sky often in Argenta; the country has always had an abundance of storms, most dry. The location of the castle ensures that he has seen every single one of them and the high walls of stone that rise high nearby only serve to amplify the sound and light. She’s not so used to thunder and lightning. The first time a storm came round since Altáriel’s arrival, she jumped sky high and buried herself under the covers of his bed, hiding her face from the window and muffling her ears with his pillow. He tried to coax her out, but whenever the light flashed and the sound came booming again, she’d hide again. Eventually, he pulled her from the covers and held her in his lap. The light flashed and the thunder boomed, but as long as he held her, she only whimpered and eventually became silent, even falling asleep on his shoulder. Whenever the storms came, it was always to him she ran.

 

24 - Anger

            He’s tried his hardest to never be angry at her for being her. His anger has been reserved for the so-called family she lived with. He knew, that day when they met, that her home life wasn’t the greatest. It took until Altáriel returned to him in such a horrible state for him to understand how horrible it was. The family who treated her like garbage. Her father, whom has only seen her as a degenerate, whom had remarried after her true mother had died for status. The stepmother, who treated her like a slave, making a young girl cook, clean, and serve them like they were royalty. Her half sisters, who treated her like garbage and made her do their chores, constantly berating her. Her whole family was prepared, rather than lettering her be free, to have her rot in the basement, to starve to death or bleed to death: whichever came first. They sold her mother’s treasures to pay for their greed. She wasn’t considered ’family’ to them.

            When she came to him and he learned this his anger was unleashed upon all of them, young half sisters included. The unmarried sisters went to the upper levels of his silver mines; the married sisters were forced to pay huge fines (to the chagrin of their new families). The stepmother went to the deep mines, to do hard manual labor for the rest of her days. Her father he sent to the dungeons to be “treated” that way she had been. Only after months of treatments, when he begged for death, did he finally have him executed. He was happy to have rid her of her horrid family…but found he couldn’t bring himself to tell her truth.

 

25 - Shame

            He toured the mines normally once or twice a year at most, less there was some great discovery of silver or something else. He was shocked when, on the morning of his semi-annual visit, she came to him and asked to come with him. His mind went blank and he couldn’t find a reason to tell her no in the end. He was more nervous than anything to bring her with him, for the obvious reason of her family’s confinement, which he still hadn’t told her about. The tour of the upper levels went quickly and he was able to avoid running into her half sisters while there. For her part, she seemed to like the stalagmites and stalactites and even found a few pretty rocks she liked (which he had the guard carry). He should have known it was too good to last.

            On the lowest level, there was the crowd surrounding something. He realized too late what it was: her stepmother. Altáriel took a look and didn’t believe her eyes. The stepmother noticed her. Bloodied and grimy, she had almost no energy, yet she threw a rock at Altáriel, which missed by a long while. The rock served a purpose though: she was now sure it was her stepmother. Her eyes widened with shock and she actually tried to approach her, but he grabbed her waist and pulled her back and away. In a small room, he tried to calm her with no success. She was in shock; horrified. He felt nothing but shame.

            Eventually he stopped talking to her and sat there, head down. He didn’t know how long he sat until he felt her hands on his cheek. Her eyes spoke of sorrow, his eyes showed only shame. But she smiled at him and embraced him and he felt it ebb a bit. And then he found himself telling her everything out of guilt and she just smiled at him and listened. And when he was done, she kissed him and he felt the shame leave him. He knew then for sure, he was keeping her besides him for as long as humanly possible and maybe even further.

 

26 - Adoration

            He often sees Altáriel looking at him during ‘court’, where the subjects come to express their problems for him to solve or where criminals are sentenced, and finds the look intriguing. He spends time watching her from the corner of his eye, wondering what it is he’s seeing in her eyes. The answer comes from a case, when he sees the look on someone else’s eyes and finds its meaning: adoration. Adoration….adoration that only appears during court. Adoration for what? And then he sees her eyes shine more and recognizes she’s reacting to his authority. In hindsight, it makes perfect sense. She’s never had any control in her life, it’s no wonder she admires and adores him for the authority he holds.

 

27 - Waves

            Altáriel told him one evening during his hot bath (which she always insisted on joining him in) that the bathtub was huge and she thought it was like the ocean. He found her comment odd, then realized she had never seen the real ocean in her life, had probably never swam before. The comment gave him an idea of an activity. The unused courtyard had held a pond years ago; it was drained long ago. He sent the gardeners to clean and fill it with clean water. After buying her a cute little black bathing suit, a one piece, he set about the task of trying to teach her to swim, at least good enough to stay afloat. He remembered only a little of his own learning to swim from a nanny assigned to him by his mother. He had been older than her, he supposed but he knew she could learn. He was patient with her, spending the next few weeks teaching her slowly until she was confident. He never told her the reason he was teaching her.

            Then one Sunday, he took her for a picnic on the beach, and let her see the ocean for herself for the first time. Her eyes were wide as she watched the waves with him and even wider when he went swimming with her in it. Some waves broke over her head in the beginning, but his hand held her and she didn’t panic too much. When she caught him off guard and splashed him in the face after another wave, he had to laugh. The smile on her face would be forever captured in his mind: another precious memory of her.

 

28 - Apologize

            He hadn’t meant to do it. It had truly been just a slip around her, something he had long tried to avoid. He had been in a bad mood all day: he work up with his back hurting, the cook burned the pastries for breakfast, the cellar had run out of his favorite wine, the stupid guard was over an hour late to court which delayed him, and then everyone in court seemed to have some stupid problem that wasn’t even worth his time. Because court ran late, he was late to lunch, which was cold by the time he got there, then the advisors for his afternoon meetings had all been unprepared which led to more frustration, then dinner which had supposed to be roast beef was sausages due to a miscommunication on the part of his page, and, worse yet, dessert was lacking. To top it all off, Altáriel had woken feeling ill and the doctor had confined her to bed all day, relieving him of the one thing that could release some of his pent up frustration. So when the day was done and he was trying to relax at the end of the day with her, now that she was a bit better, and she accidentally dropped (and thus broke) that gilded teacup, he lost it. It normally wouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest; today it was the last straw.

            He had hit her, smacked her across the face and called her an ‘idiot’ before stalking out. He only got halfway down the hallway before he regretted the action immediately; after all the collection of things that went wrong were in no way her fault. He found himself sitting in the library afterwards, wondering what to do. He was a Lord, apologizing was something he never did (he couldn’t actually recall the last time he had if he had ever done so at all) and yet he knew it was needed in this case. His eyes wandered, searching for and idea - and he found one in the cover of a book. A late night call was made to an employee for a long term project, a second to the new page concerning tomorrow, and then he headed off into the night with only a sole guard besides him. He didn’t return until morning had just about arrived. He was exhausted, slightly wet, and dirty but he was sure it was worth it in the end.

            When Altáriel woke that next morning in her own room, having retreated soon after his ‘blowout’, for a moment she didn’t recognize her surroundings. Sitting up, she took another look and felt her mouth drop. The previously bare shelves, dresser tops, vanities, and such had all been filled with tens of vases all brimming with hundreds maybe thousands of flowers in every shape, color, and size there could ever be. Open mouthed, she let her eyes wander the room from one side to the other, unbelieving of what she was seeing. The biggest surprise, though, was that he was sitting on the foot of her bed, doing something with his hands that she couldn’t quite see at first, but soon realized he was weaving flowers into something. Curious, she leaned forward a bit, only to be stopped by his finger on her nose. In an instant, the creation was placed upon her head: a wreath of silver flowers. She felt herself blush and her eyes met his in a silent question. A hand gently cupped the still slightly sore cheek and then he whispered the _unthinkable_ into her ear and she smiled. It was easy to drift back asleep with the scent of flowers in the air and his arms around her.

 

29 - Waiting

            She hates waiting for him those nights; hates it, hates it, hates it. Altáriel finds she has nothing to do but just wait for him. Night meetings are uncommon - he only usually has one or two a month and she is banned from them. They’re about war, spying, betrayal, executions, and other such thing he thinks she’s too young to hear about and for once she agrees with him. So, she lays and waits for him in his room, normally on his bed. The minutes and hours tick by so slowly and the books she normally loves to read can’t seem to hold her attention.  When he returned, it was always a greeting, some tea and cookies, a little quite time where she reads and he does paperwork, and then off to bed (or usually ‘night activities’ and then bed)

            …so in her boredom one such evening, she made a game up for herself to play based upon this routine. Could she find the right thing to wear and the right way to lay to get him to skip from the greeting right to the ‘night activities’ without having to do the things in-between? It wouldn’t be too easy as he didn’t like skipping that evening paperwork (it meant he had to get up even earlier in the morning to do it when he did) but, heck, she was going to try! So she picked out the most revealing piece of black lingerie she could find in her drawers and let her hair fall just so. Finding a nice pose to strike on the bed was the hardest part. Now all she had to do was wait for him to open the door and then gaze at him with those bedroom eyes of hers…

 

30 - Glitter

            He couldn’t understand why everyone was looking at him so oddly this morning. The subjects for morning court one after another were all looking at him oddly. Some guards were sneaking a glace at him every minute or so and a few maids seemed just inches away from bursting out into laughter. He didn’t get it. His clothes were the same, his crown the same, his goatee trimmed properly… what was it? Sure he had rushed this morning through his bath and hadn’t the time to check his hair in the mirror before he left but he had combed it numerous times - it couldn’t look that bad when it felt like it was in the right alignment.

            He wished Altáriel was sitting besides him, as she would tell him, but his little houseguest was spending the morning in the kitchen baking. After her early morning excursion some time ago, he’s agreed to let her spend a day or maybe two a week having some time to bake in the kitchen under supervision, provided she let him eat the results. He did miss her next to him, but her baking skills were extraordinary, to say the least. He was looking forward to lunch.

            The stares continued at lunch and he honestly felt like snapping at all of them, asking what they were staring at. He had just about had enough when she arrived with a tray full of cookies and a small cake. She stated going on about what she made, pointing to the plate, and he grabbed a handful. Her eyes turned to him and she stopped talking suddenly, eyes going wide. She stood there silent for a moment, then the giggles started and escalated until she was half collapsed on the floor with laughter. He easily scooped her from the floor onto his lap with one hand.

            “What in the world is so funny?”  /Your hair…./  “My hair?”  /You were in a rush, weren’t you?/  “What does that have to do with my hair?”  /You’ve used my ‘special’ shampoo…You know, the party shampoo?/  “…”  /Your hair’s full of glitter…./

            He vowed to never take a bath in the morning again after catching sight of himself in a mirror immediately after, although having her wash his hair out wasn’t such a bad thing….

 

31 - Watch

            She watches in silence at his side. He hates gathering, but they are a necessity sometimes. Visiting Argenta’s neighbors on political business, there is always a gathering - a party. It’s filled with loud music, singing, and dancing. He hates the music and singing: such things he has banned from Argenta. Altáriel has had to real exposure to any of the three, so she watches in silence and in awe. She finds some music enjoyable, but not much. She doesn’t like the singers’ voices too much. It’s the dancing which captivates her, though. The nobles dance across the floor with such ease and grace, it’s beautiful to her. He notices her watching with that look in her eyes and wonders. And he surprises her when a softer song comes along that isn’t accompanied by too much singing when he takes her hand and leads her onto the floor. He finds himself dancing with her, dancing for the first time in decades, just to see her smile at him like that.

 

32 - Regret

            He finds himself staring at her back one night after their his normal bath (which has become her normal bath too). Although the passage of some time and some care from the doctors has healed most of the damage of her body, scars still remain on her back where they were the deepest. He finds himself in the routine of staring at them transfixed until she tries to put her top on, which is where he stops her and insists on putting the specialty cream on them, even though he knows it will most likely not fade them any further. Altáriel always turns and tells him not to dwell on it, not to regret it: it isn’t his fault she has these scars. Her words soothe his conscious little, but he always smiles at her and nods anyway. Late at night, when she lies sleeping in his arms, he tells himself she would have never been marred if he had snatched her that day they first met and insisted she never leave him.

 

33 - Plain

            When Altáriel first arrived, he gave her a closet full of clothes of every color, style, and sort. It was lovely to see her smile when she saw them all neatly lined up in her closet and drawers. There were lavish dresses, ball gowns, evening clothes, and even clothes from countries across the sea and beyond all for her. She used to pick out her own outfits everyday but after a month of her being here in his palace with him, he noticed her trend. She never once wore of her own volition those extravagant gowns that any other woman would have fawned over. She never wore ball gowns, never wore evening clothes, never those lavish dresses, or the ones with the multiple layers or intricate designs. She only wore the plain clothes.

            He wondered why for only a moment before the realization that her past trauma had perhaps left her feeling unworthy of wearing anything other than those plain clothes. From then on, he personally picked her clothes for each and every day, dolling and dressing her up like the beautiful young girl she was. And everyday he’d tell her she was beautiful and so above those plain clothes her closet no longer holds.

 

34 - Shy

            Some nights, he dreams of their first meeting. It was a ball he had thrown to celebrate the subjugation of a small nearby country that had been then added to Argenta’s land. All of the nobles and high class citizens and their families had been invited, her father among them. The nobles and high class went about their normal routine of greeting him early in the evening and then avoiding him for the rest of the night. They socialized among themselves all night long. The children brought normally avoided him like the plague, terrified of him, too shy to be near him. Not Altáriel.

            He had been up to get more desserts from the banquet table and was reaching for that last slice of cake when she had tugged on his pant leg. Only 5, she was far too short to reach the top of the table. A normal child would have never dared, but not her. She had been brazen enough to ask him, nicely be it, to give her a piece of cake. He didn’t know, looking back, why he had given her the last piece of cake. The cheeky little girl hadn’t been shy at all; if fact she had followed him back to his corner from the table and sat down besides him and then offered to share the cake with him. If he was shocked then, her next words were even more of a surprise.

            That little girl, only five had insisted, not said by _insisted_ that when she grew up, she was going to be his next bride. He had laughed at first, but she hadn’t backed down in the slightest. To humor her more than anything else, he had gifted to her a necklace emblazoned with his crest, a gift he gave all the women he was interested in. He had never expected her to actually try and fulfill that request. But three years later, here she was with him, still too young to be a bride, but still wanting to be one. He didn’t want to know what might have happened if he had never given her that cake…

 

35 - Moonlight

            He told Altáriel once that she was most beautiful under the moonlight. She had looked at him with adoration and confusion in her eyes and he had elaborated how only the serene and calm moonlight made her shine. In the silvery moonlight her red-orange hair seemed to glow like fire, her emerald eyes were like jewels of an incomparable cut, her soft skin the most luminescent, and her cute little pink lips shimming. Her face had gone pink and she had hung her head in embarrassment. Her rose her gaze back up to his with kisses along her forehead, then cheeks, then chin. In a whisper meant for her alone he had told her the best part: in the silver moonlight, she looked the best for everything silver in Argenta belonged to him.

 

36 - Melt

            He found more often than not his back was bothering him at night, hindering his sleep. He tried a new mattress, adding pillows under his back, and every sleeping position he could think of that still allowed him to hold Altáriel: nothing seemed to work. The doctor, in a meek voice, told him it was just his body getting old and there was no medicine or treatment for that. He dismissed the doctor in a rage, unsure of what to do next. He was barely sleeping now and so his mind turned from cures for his pain to sleeping cures. A hot bath before bed, warm tea, warm milk, even poppy juice failed to lull him into sleep for long. Completely exhausted, he just laid in bed all day the next day, waiting for the sleep that eluded him.

            It was then that she joined him, but instead of retreating to his arms like normal she moved behind him, to hold his head in her small lap. Her green eyes met his with unexpected meekness as she asked if she could try something. Only when he insisted that no matter what it was he wouldn’t be angry with her did she nod and agree. And then she started humming which turned into singing, which he despised normally, but somehow it didn’t seem so awful when it was her voice. The very tone of her voice seemed to relax him and he felt as if he were melting into her arms. He barely caught some of the words, but caught enough to know it was a lullaby. He thought he remembered it from sometime long ago, but had forgotten the ending so he tried to listen to it. By the time she reached the ending, however, he was fast asleep against her and for the first time in a long time, his sleep went interrupted.

 

37 - Half

            It’s kind of easy, he notices one day, to compare the two of them using halves. Altáriel is half his height about and just about half his weight too. She’s far less than half his age though. His hair is half as long as hers is as is his patience. She knows less than half his servants whom he knows all while he knows less than half about cooking and baking that what she does. Their love of sweets is almost equal. In just another year, she will have known him for half her life and dreamed about him for that long too. In comparison, he’s known her for far less but it sure feels like more than half to him.

 

38 - Neutral

            He tries (although he often fails) to be objective when dealing with matters between his many servants. It helps to settle the arguments easier when he’s no predisposed to take a side, when he remains neutral. He does fail often, but he also has his successes. Altáriel, when she listens in, is almost always neutral. It seems to come easier to her and he often finds himself whispering to her when he can’t be neutral to ask her what she thinks. It’s a surprise then, that winter day, to see her so irate so early on in a argument between two servants, so not neutral at all. Her disgust with the male knight is as apparent as the sun on a clear day and it’s making that servant angry. It’s fine for him to just watch, letting her settle the dispute, at least until the knight loses his temper completely. With a growl, the knight shoves her easily, she still being a child, and she falls backwards and stumbles into the pond in the courtyard behind her. Guards quickly restrain and escort both servants away, but its not them that need his attention: it’s her. Her swimming still needs some work and in her long flowing gown, she has to fight to keep her head above the water. Before another guard can arrive, he’s in the water, grabbing her arm and bringing her to him, letting her clutch against his not soaking wet clothes as he pulls them both ashore. She shakes for a moment, then throws her arms around his neck in a half-sob. He just holds her tight. He’s cold, but right now this is more important to him.

 

39 - Leave

            His stint in the water chilled him and he awakens days later feeling awful. For days, he just lies in bed, feeling worse and worse. She sits besides him, her hands round his, with a terrified expression upon her face. Seeing her face, he wonders if he really looks that bad and if this will be his end. The doctor can only give him medicine for the fever that sporadically appears, nothing more; the rest he must weather himself. But he feels so awful one night, cold and barely breathing and he feels as if death has come for him at last. There seems to be nothing that can wake him from the void and he almost feels himself let go - except something warm is dripping onto his hand. It feels odd and the curiosity draws him back a bit, back to the point where he can crack his eyes open a smidge to see what the dripping thing is. It’s Altáriel, who hasn’t moved from her spot at his side. It’s Altáriel, whose crying almost hysterically, warm tears running down her face to drip onto the hand she won’t release. And there’s a whispered thing she keeps saying over and over barely audible to him, but he hears it and he knows he can’t go.

/Please don’t leave me. Please don’t let him leave. Please don’t take the only good thing in my life./

 

40 - Pitiful

            Pitiful. It was the one word he could use to accurately sum up the life she had had before she came to be with him. Just pitiful. She had been deprived of everything a normal girl should have had and treated in an inhumane way. She had been deprived of basic things. When she arrived at the palace, he had made a silent vow to give her everything she wanted that he could give her. His Altáriel got lavished with gifts, clothes, food, and more - anything a girl could really ever dream of. He hoped that one day, it might drive the memories of her pitiful and painful childhood from her mind.

 

41 - Winter

            Winter in Argenta is cold and snow-filled. The long winding hallways of the palace and the many large rooms seem to make it even colder, seem to keep the chill in the air. There are few rooms with fireplaces, most of them out of the way or un-useful for most of his needed activities. He’s learned to wear extra layers and thicker cloaks to block the cold out, to drink warm drinks more often, and to not sit still as much. Altáriel is not used to dealing with the cold, she’s instead used to always being cold. The first truly cold day she was still barefoot and still in one of the lovely silk dresses he gave her. He left breakfast to return her to her room, to change her clothes into three layers instead of just one. He made her wear stockings and socks and shoes (or slippers) and then added a decorative jacket over her whole ensemble. He stuck furry gloves into her pockets for when her hands would get chilled later in the day. She still felt slightly cold to him, so he used it as an excuse to hug her and not let her go, even after her whole face had turned such a lovely shade of scarlet. They were late leaving breakfast, but at least he didn’t have to worry about her freezing during the winter.

 

42 - Flowers

            When spring came, he found a day to slip away from her to visit the extra gardener he’d hired months ago after his little slip-up with her. The courtyard had been boarded up for the winter, to keep the cold from it out of the palace and he had yet to order the obstructions removed for a good reason: the once barren area was now fully abloom with flowers. He didn’t like flowers that much at all - the garden he had ordered done for one reason and one reason only: Altáriel. It was to be his gift for her birthday, something that he knew she’d love more than anything. It would give her a place to go when she was bored with court. He knew she’d never really gotten a real birthday present before and he was hoping it would be something special for her. In truth, it would be the first sincere gift he’d ever given anyone for their birthday…

            It was hard to keep the secret for the next few weeks and even harder to explain why the boarding was still up to the curious servants. He eventually had to tell everyone there was an infestation of poisonous wasps in the old fountain that were being dealt with; all questions stopped after that. He purposely tried to not mention her birthday at all around her, tried to give her the impression that he’d forgotten completely. In secret, he ordered a cake from the best baker in the country (to be kept an absolute secret and to be delivered on the morning of the day to him, directly) and had a special dress made for her in black, silver, and purple. On that day, he slipped out of bed early to meet the baker and had the guards quietly tear down the boards. He set the cake up in the courtyard under a glass case on the table, then returned to his room before she awoke. He acted like it was a normal day as he had her wear the new dress and then led her to breakfast. Then he discreetly laced her morning tea with a combination of the doctor’s best sleeping remedy and poppy juice so she was out cold before she had half finished the cup. Then he picked her up and brought her into the courtyard garden and laid her down among the flowers. He took a seat at the table - all that was left to do was wait.

 

43 - Speak

            Altáriel woke to the sounds of birds and the sweet aroma of flowers. Opening her eyes, she was surprised to see she was surrounded on all sides with flowers of every variety she could possibly imagine. She was outside in maybe a meadow... Her mouth dropped open in awe and she slowly sat herself up. She looked around and stopped - not outside truly…still within the place walls. The courtyard, she realized as she studied the walls around her. But how? It had been dead for years. Her eyes slowly wandered around the room, then stopped. A very familiar someone was half lounging in a chair by a table, that tell-tale smirk upon his face. There was something sitting on the table in front of him, something in what looked like glass? Curious, she rose to her feet and wandered over. She was glad there was a second chair nearby to collapse into, for when she examined the object her legs became like gelatin and gave out on her.

            A cake emblazoned with flowers in delicate cream and wonderful script. Script which clearly said ‘Happy Birthday Altáriel’. A cake for her? And he was looking at her, then the cake, and then the garden in silence and she understood. Not just a cake for her, an entire **garden** for her. The nonchalant attitude, the dress, and her sleepiness at breakfast all suddenly made sense to her and she felt her eyes fill with tears: hot tears she couldn’t seem to stop from cascading down her cheeks in rivers even as she smiled more than she’d ever remembered. And then he was standing next to her, speaking quietly into her ear thinks she’d never heard him say before but thing she was sure she wanted to hear him speak over and over again.

            She knew right then and there for sure that no matter what happened, he would never let her go, never let her be anything but his - and it was more than she could have ever asked or hoped for.

 

44 - Gentle

            It was hard to restrain himself, so hard -especially when she would grab at him and press herself even closer to him. Altáriel was just too beautiful, too lovely. It felt better than any other time he’d been with any other woman when he was with her; he couldn’t quite understand why. Perhaps it was because for the first time he actually loved the girl beneath him? He kept reminding himself in his head over and over again, even as the pleasure threaten to take full hold /Gentle. Gentle. Gentle./  Even if she begged, moaned, or screamed for it, for now that was all he wanted to be  - gentle.

 

45 - Last

            He has had countless wives, countless brides in his life. The first had been when he was young and had foolishly believed that the semi-pretty young girl had loved him - it had last three week before they had had enough of one another and she had stayed for only another year before running off with a traveling musician. After her, he had stopped trying to pick his brides out of love. He married again and again for one purpose: a son. They got two tries each, and when they had failed twice (either though having girls or miscarriages), he had them removed from sight, the marriage annulled, and then tossed into the mines. And then it was on to the next girl, the next wife for years and years. The same tired courtship, the same boring dull wedding, and the same unexciting married life over and over and over again.

            It’s changed now. He hasn’t had a bride since a month before Altáriel came to stay with him -it’s the longest he’s ever gone without being married that he could be married. Altáriel is still too young to get married, but he doesn’t mind waiting. He knows her heart isn’t going to change and neither will his. He’s not going to do the same courtship again, in fact he’s already planned some of it in his head even now. It won’t be a quick wedding - he can see her wreathed in flowers and silver. He no longer cares if in the future when that bright eyed girl can be truly called “his” only has daughters, just her will be enough. He’s never felt this way before. And he knows, in the deepest part of his heart, that come what may she will be his last bride - he will take no other after her.

 

46 - Dew

            He awakens one morning alone with the place beside him cold, which is odd since Altáriel always stays with him, always is there when he wakes either still asleep in his arms or awake and showing him with kisses. Her absence makes him uneasy, and he’s up and looking through the adjoining rooms for her before long. But no Altáriel. A check of her closet reveals all her clothes still in place - only a pair of silk slippers are missing and, oddly, the basket from the table which holds the fresh fruit (the fruit has been placed in a bowl). In a rush for some reason he can’t explain, he dresses and practically dashes down the hallways in search of her.

            He finds her in the kitchen, surrounded by dirty bowls in piles. The basket rests on the countertop, now empty save a trace of dew-dripped leaves that appear to have come from some flower. She sits on a stool, watching something in the oven will rapt attention - her slightly wavy red hair is filled with water droplets. Dew, he realizes, from the very early morning sprinkle of rain. It’s along the top of her nightgown as well. He relaxes a bit, not realizing just how tense he was until a moment ago, to find her alright. He walks next to her and uses the handkerchief in his pocket to dry some of her hair and then wipe the smudge of flour from her cheek. She just smiles at him with that smile that says she’s got something special in store. With a kiss to her forehead, he heads out to the dining room for breakfast.

            Ten minutes into breakfast she arrives with a different basket in hand, overflowing with small round fluffy cakes. He reaches to grab one but she moves the basket out of reach and just picks one off the top & holds it out to him. He looks at her oddly for a moment, then takes the offered cake and pops it into his mouth. It’s still warm and so sweet and from the center warm honey seeps out. The taste is beyond anything he’s ever tried before and he takes what seems like hours to just eat that one cake. Her grin is a mile wide as she moves closer to sit on his lap, the basket of cakes still out of reach in her hand, as she leans in to whisper the name of the cakes to him. He smiles at her: he has a feeling that one day she’ll be naming a daughter that name.

 

47 - Night

            Night was their favorite time. Argenta itself was known as the country of silver and the country of the night. His castle was called the Castle of the Night. Night was the one time he knew Altáriel would be beside him, the one time of day he didn’t need to wonder where she’d be. He knew she’d be in his arms. She knew at night, his attention would be on her and only her. Night was a time for them to enjoy each other and forget about the rest of the world’s problems. And night would always be filled with passion, love, and sweet dreams.

 

48 - Footsteps

            He remembered always hearing her footsteps in the hallway as she headed from her room to his. At first Altáriel was too short to reach the doorknob of the door between their rooms, so she always walked around. He used to hear her bare feet padding against the stone floor. He bought her slippers to wear, worried about the chill she would get from the icy floor. From then on, he would hear the soft padding of her slippers at night.

            When she became a teenager, he had bought her heeled shoes, tiny ones at first. She was so awkward in them, tripping more than actually walking but he stood beside her and helped her learn to walk in them. When she was better at it, he eventually bought her higher and higher heels until she wore normal shoes. He loved to hear the click of her shoes on the floor, her gentle footsteps. It was a constant reminder to him that she was growing older and getting closer to being fully his.

 

49 - End

            He finds himself staring at her. It’s been many years since she first came to live with him. Altáriel showed up a his doorstep as a young and defeated child and now she stands before him as a beautiful young woman. The harsh years of her past have been soothed away under his care, the sorrows buried, forgotten, and replaced with happy memories. She’s grown so much not only in personality and height but in beauty as well.

            Her childhood has at last come to an end - an end that marks the beginning of the next chapters of their lives. At least, that’s what he whispers to her softly that night as he slips the sparkling engagement ring on her finger between kisses.

 

50 - Use Me

            Use me - they were the first two words she spoke to him when she arrived all those years ago after all that silence. What she had meant then was up for interpretation - when she says it now, he knows what Altáriel means. It’s almost become a nightly ritual for them, a way for him to further mark her as his, beyond the ring she wears and the vows they made. He’s always kind and she always seems eager. This night is no different.

            When he finishes their last round and snuggles beside her to continue their ritual of falling asleep in each others arms, she changes her normal position and leans over to whisper in his ear. He smiles and kisses her softly, hands moving to hold her stomach softly. He wonders to himself as he falls asleep if it’ll be the son he spent his whole life longing for or a daughter. But then, he thinks, it won’t matter at all - it will be his and Altáriel’s and that’s the only thing that will really matter. He’s struck by a sudden thought - maybe _that_ statement is true after all. You are never too old to fall in love.


End file.
